


The Domino Effect

by sarinoxious



Category: Septic egos, jacksepticeye, jse egos - Fandom
Genre: CW: toxic relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarinoxious/pseuds/sarinoxious
Summary: This is a little something I wrote for the Domino Effect, the ARG started by those lovely mysterious JJ anons from https://timeticksback.tumblr.com/





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something I wrote for the Domino Effect, the ARG started by those lovely mysterious JJ anons from https://timeticksback.tumblr.com/

“Marvin. Is it true?”

His face has always been like an open book, written in a language only Marvin can read, showing exactly what Chase sees when he looks at Marvin with those big blue puppy eyes of his: his ship, his anchor, the star at the centre of his galaxy.

“Is what true?”

He locks eyes with Chase, his darling Chase, who’s tired eyes make him look more vulnerable than ever right now. He looks as if he’s faced the devil himself, and is only now starting to realise how far he’ll have to crawl to get out of hell.

“Stacy. I-,”

Marvin swiftly interrupts him. “Is she still on your mind?” Chase tries to avert his gaze, looking down into his mug, but Marvin steps forward, reaching out to take Chase’s head in his hands. His thumb glows a faint silver as it finds the slight dimple on Chase’s left temple. He moves in to plant a kiss on Chase’s forehead, a kiss to take the doubt away, planting yet another tree of trust in Chase’s head to keep those little flowers of hesitation out of the sunlight. 

Chase almost leans into Marvin’s touch, ~~it’s so easy to sink back, there’s no need to fight it, he’d never hurt you, he loves you, and you love him just as much~~ , but he freezes up, pulling himself back right before Marvin’s ~~soft, beautiful, magical~~ lying lips touch ground. “Marvin, don’t. Don’t do that. You- you always do that, you- hah. Of course, you always do that.”

“What are you talking about, Chaser? Can’t a man kiss his coffee-drinking, pancake-baking boyfriend on a Sunday morning?” 

Chase hesitates, his thumb running around the rim of his coffee mug. “Why are you down here?”

“What do you mean?” 

Chase places his mug down on the counter and pushes past Marvin to get to the stove, nudging the pancakes around the pan with a spatula. “With me, in the kitchen. You never come into the kitchen in the mornings. You always stay in upstairs, waiting for me to bring you breakfast in bed...” he chuckles, almost as if he’s reliving a happy memory, “Yelling about jam to make sure I don’t forget.”

He looks tired- no, exhausted- in the way he’s standing there. It’s ingrained into his eyes, it drains the colour from his cheeks, it drags his shoulders down, and strains his back. He’s been through so much. “It’s been a long few days, Chase. I wanted- I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you. And rightfully so, because-” Marvin moves up behind Chase, placing a kiss in his neck “-the last time I let you make pancakes by yourself, you drank poisoned coffee.”

He expects Chase to melt into his arms, as he always does. He does not expect Chase to freeze up under his touch.

“It’s funny. Those mornings - where I’m alone in the kitchen making pancakes, and you’re upstairs yelling about jam - are one of the few I can think clearly. You- you often interrupt my train of thought, do you know that?”

He can’t lose him. The line of his jaw, that gorgeous beard he’s been growing. Those cheeks, the way his blood rushes into them, shades them to pink when he says he loves him. The curve of his neck, a perfect mold for his face. His strong arms around him as Chase carries him up and down the stairs whenever he’s too sore or too lazy to walk. The pillow talk, the look in his eyes as they fantasise about all the ways they missed out on killing _her_. The desperation that seeps from every fibre of his being when they’re separated, the way they clash back together when they’re reunited, like two magnets, while crushing everything that dares stand between them without batting as much as an eye. Chase is his everything, his galaxy. The moon, the planets, and all the stars, none of it means anything if Chase isn’t there to experience it with him.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about what she said.” 

“Chase, I- you trust me, right? I’d never lie to you, I’d never do anything to hurt you, please, Chaser, you have to believe me!”

“I’m- I’m gonna sleep somewhere else, just for a couple of days. Just to think about some things.” His knuckles turn to white as he tightens his grip on the panhandle. A deep breath. “I think- I think I finally understand her side of things. Sometimes you just need some me-time, right? That’s- that’s a healthy thing to have, in a relationship, every once in a while.” He lets go of the pan -he’s lost his appetite for pancakes anyway- and tries to move away from Marvin again, but Marvins arms are locked around him, and they won’t budge.

“Chase, no, I- I can’t- I can’t lose you! I can’t let you go-”

“It’s just for a few days, Marvin. I need to do some thinking, see some other people. I- I barely talk to anyone besides you. That can’t be healthy. Please, let me go.”

“Who.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand, and he won’t take no for an answer.

“Who I’m staying with?” Another deep breath, and for a moment, it seems like Chase ~~finally~~ settles down in Marvin’s arms. “Jackie. I called Jackie, I can crash on his couch.”

 

“ **I can’t let you do that**.”

“I’m not _asking_ you to let me do this. I- I don’t need your _permission_ to do this, Marvin!”

“Jackie kidnapped us! What do you mean you’re staying with _him_ , of all people?”

“I’ve thought about this, Marvin. I made this decision and as my _boyfriend_ you’re ought to _respect_ that. This is not up to discussion.”

It starts with a shove. Chase has turned around in Marvins arms and placed both of his hands on his chest, pushing him away. Chase always was the stronger one of them both. Physically, at least. Marvin doesn’t move as Chase storms out of the kitchen. He doesn’t blink as Chase’s heavy footsteps climb the stairs and enter their bedroom. He doesn’t breathe as he hears Chase rummaging around, opening closets and drawers to pack for his-

_He was gonna leave._

The door of reality finally slammed into Marvin’s face, and he balled his hands by his side as he followed in Chase’s footsteps. Out the kitchen, up the stairs, into the-

Chase clearly didn’t expect Marvin to follow him. Much less did he expect to find him angry- no, _furious_ , magic curling around balled fists. He drops the bag as he raises his hands in defence, a nervous chuckle forming around his lips. “Marvin. What are you-”

“I’m not gonna lose you, Chase. I’ll never let you go. I- I love you! I will always love you, Chaser, please. Just- please, Chase, look at me. Promise me you won’t go.”

That’s the last push Chase needed. It’s the cliff’s edge, again, and there they were, again. Him, on the edge: a cold and dark abyss before him, Marvin’s safe warm arms behind him.

“Was she right, Marvin? Did you lie to me? Did you-” It’s that same choice, again. Fall back into Marvin’s embrace, or fall forward into uncertainty? It’s always been such an easy choice. But Marvin’s arms don’t look quite as safe as they used to. “You made me kill her, Marvin! You made me- I shot her! And- oh god, I’m a fucking child-killer! And never did- I have to call the cops. I have to- they need to arrest me. I can’t-” 

Marvin simply raises one of his hands, the glow of magic intense enough to paint both of them silver, casting eerie shadows behind them. "Shush now, I’m sick of your voice." 

Chase’s eyes dart around the hallway, looking for a phone, for another human being, anyone but Marvin. But his gaze is drawn to Marvin’s raised hand as if there’s an invisible force pulling him in. The glow pulses rhythmically, and he can’t do anything to prevent his panicked breathing from slowing down to match it. In and out. In and out. Easy, Chaser. You don’t have to run. You’re safe. You’ll always be safe, as long as we’re together. You and me, Chaser, we can do anything together, and nobody will ever be powerful enough to stop us. Not even Anti, not even Jack. We’re the king and queen of the chessboard, Chaser. We’re gonna win this, and I’m gonna give you the world. 

He’s so susceptible to his hypnosis, his consciousness is so malleable, so eager to take on whatever suggestion Marvin plants in that pretty skull of his. He’s voluntarily fallen under it so often, all those nights where the guilt presses down upon him, and he wakes up crying, practically _begging_ Marvin to get rid of it all. He’d always pretend to hesitate, feign concern for Chase’s wellbeing, but Chase would never stop whining and begging until Marvin gives him what they both want. _This is the last time, Chaser,_ he’d promise. _I don’t want to give you a magical lobotomy by accident_.

Marvin slowly stalks closer, careful not to disturb the trance he’s put his boyfriend under. 

_You’re a murderer, Chase. You have to turn yourself in. Close your eyes, Chase, stop looking at him, he’s trying to keep you here, he’s got you locked in his grasp, you have to run, Chase. Run while you still can, run! Run!_

It hurts to tear his eyes away from the glow, from the happy life it whispers about. Marvin is three steps away. He turns around, back into the bedroom, leaving Marvin four, five, six steps behind him. His fingers fiddle with the locking mechanism on the window. Six, five, four steps behind him. Something sharp buries itself into his back, right as he unlocks the window. Another joins the first as he opens the window, already lifting one leg over the windowsill. His fingers are cold as they latch onto the frame, and his back is so warm. Marvin is three, two, one steps behind him. A third blade is plunged into his back, right between two ribs, tearing through muscle, cutting into his lung, and he falls back into the room, right into Marvin’s arms.

Marvin gracefully lets himself down onto the floor, placing Chase’s head onto his lap, making sure to avoid the two throwing knives and the dagger in his lover’s back. He thoughtlessly lets his fingers comb through Chase’s soft hair as he prepares his magic for what he has to do next. Chase, his Chaser, his beautiful sweet boyfriend Chase, he wouldn’t know what he’d do without him.

“Galaxies don’t form around stars, Chaser. They form around black holes.”

Blood bubbles up in Chase’s mouth as he tries to reply, but there’s no air left to speak with. It stains his lips a beautiful crimson, a sharp contrast with those baby blue puppy eyes of his.

The last thing he sees before he dies is Marvin’s tear-stained face, his expression soft with true love, and his eyes, turning a cold, pale shade of silver, without a hint of love.

But he doesn’t see the star at the centre of his galaxy, not anymore. He knows now, that galaxies don’t revolt around stars. They revolt around a black hole, something so powerful, so irresistible, it pulls you into its grasp with no intention of ever letting you go.

And neither does Marvin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third perk of having a magical boyfriend: death will never make them part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting.
> 
> Characters are from The Domino Effect, and ARG by @eopocalypse and @ill-spink on Tumblr!

_ Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back. _

It’s dark. His eyelids have never felt quite so heavy. ~~Just as heavy as the guilt that remained after he shot his- no, now is not the time for that.~~ He slips and falls, like a dive of a cliff, cold water waiting to meet him down below. He sinks, but it’s alright. He’s safe. He’s safe.

 

It’s dark. His eyelids are heavy, but that’s alright. He’s safe, he’s warm, he’s in bed, his bed, the bed he shares with-

Marvin. 

A pang of fear shoots through him, and he’s on his feet before he knows it, wide awake in an instant. His back complains, burning with pain, but Chase ignores it, adrenaline already rushing through his body. He has to get out of the house. He has to- he has to call someone. Jackie. He has to call Jackie. His eyes dart around the room, looking for a phone, his heart sinking in his chest when he can’t find one. Marvin probably took them away. He turns to the window, and opens the curtain, planning to escape over the roof, but once again, Marvin was one step ahead of him. The windows are locked, and the silver sheen over the handles tells Chase he probably shouldn’t try to open them. Long way out it is, then.

He doesn’t know where Marvin is. He takes his steps carefully, listening for Marvin’s location in the house, although the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears is making it hard to hear much. A glint of hope tells him that, hey, maybe he’s lucky, maybe Marvin isn’t even home at all. But of course he is, he has to be. He wouldn’t leave his captive home alone, not right after he tried to escape. 

The bedroom door squeaks as he opens it, slowly, slowly now. He stops dead in his tracks as memories flash in front of his eyes. Him, his hands in the air as if to surrender, a duffel bag of clothes by his feet. Marvin, atop the stairs, clenched fists by his side, magic flowing off of him in waves. He’ll never forget the light in his eyes, how utterly threatening he looked, completely void of love or happiness. 

He starts to descend the stairs, when-

“Chase?” His heart stops. “Chase, darling, what are you doing out of bed?” Marvin appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He- he almost looks caring, a soft smile around his lips, eyes brimming with concern and love as he looks up at him. This is not- this isn’t real. This can’t be real. He’s pretending, of course he is. This isn’t the real Marvin.

He tries to hide the shock, but it must've been clearly written on his face, or maybe Marvin has gotten too good at reading him. Marvin's soft and caring composure melts away in an instant. He pushes himself off the doorframe, slowly pacing towards Chase, who’s standing still halfway down the stairs, frozen in fear. Predator and prey. They have always been like this, and they will always be like this. Chase was just blind to it before. 

And he will be blind to it again.

A flash of silver is the last thing he sees before his body falls limp into Marvin’s arms.

 

His senses return to him one by one. First, the smell of fresh linen, and rubbing alcohol. Then, running water, and someone humming. The taste of iron. Sunlight, dancing over his eyelids. It takes effort to peel them open. He looks up at a familiar ceiling, lit with the last rays of sunlight before it sets, or maybe it’s the first beams after sunrise. He’s not sure. He blinks a couple of times, an attempt to clear the fog in his mind. Something is tightly wound around his chest, and pain strikes through his back as he tries to get up. 

He must’ve let out a groan because seconds later, the bedroom door is thrown open, revealing Marvin with a toothbrush in his mouth and a towel wrapped around his hair. Morning it is.

“Chase! You’re awake, you- you’re finally awake! Stay down, no, don’t get up-” a snap of his fingers is all it takes to get rid of the toothbrush, and Marvin rushes to Chase’s side, ushering him down into a stack of pillows. 

“Wh- what-” His his lungs burn as he struggles to breathe, fighting against the pressure of the bandages, “What happened?”

Marvin ignores the question, handing him a glass of water instead. “Drink up, Chaser. You’ve been out for a whole day.” Marvin smiles softly, lovingly, while Chase drinks, only now realising how parched he is.

One of the perks of having a magical boyfriend: glasses refill themselves. After having drunk what feels like an entire ocean, Chase hands the full glass back to Marvin. “An entire day?” He winces, his lungs hurt, why do his lungs hurt? “Why- what happened?”

Another perk of having a magical boyfriend: instant pain relief. As soon as Marvin notices the discomfort his boyfriend is in, he slips his hand behind Chase’s back, smothering the pain to a soft hum.

When Marvin speaks again, his voice is soft and smooth as ever. “What is the last thing you remember?” 

He takes a deep breath, melting into the mountain of pillows behind him. He can feel his back muscles relax at the absence of pain, but Marvin’s hand remains, warm and supportive as always. Chase's eyebrows knit into a frown, crowning his closed eyes. “Waking up with you,” he starts, trying to find the pieces of that morning so he can start puzzling them back together. “I went downstairs, to make pancakes.” He doesn’t seem to realise how many pieces are missing. “Talking to… talking to Jackie? Why was he-” 

He doesn’t know how easy it is for Marvin to turn the pieces around, making them face down, hiding the images they carry.

“Jackie… Jackie broke in, that morning. I guess Henrik wasn’t done with his experiments on us yet, that bastard.”

Chase shakes his head, slowly, as if to carefully shake off the silver mist that’s shrouding his memories “I- no, that doesn’t make any sense. I- I remember talking to Jackie through the phone…” Chase tries to scoot away from Marvin, eyes growing with realisation. “He- you-”

Marvin’s hand is still behind Chase’s back, and he starts tracing slow circles as he revisits what _really_ happened that morning. “You were downstairs, making pancakes,” he started. “Then Jackie broke in, through the window here. I guess he- hah- he wasn’t expecting to find me in bed.” 

Chase nods before he chimes in, memories reappearing, taking shape, conforming to what Marvin tells him. “I- I think, yeah, I remember now. I heard a crash, so I ran up the stairs-”

“Mhm. We fought, and he nearly got me, but you… you put yourself in harm’s way, you self sacrificing idiot, but you’re okay. You’re okay, I’m here, I’m not leaving.” Marvin’s other hand finds Chase’s, and he squeezes it as if to reassure himself of the fact that Chase is here, he’s breathing, he has a pulse, and he’s here, he’s okay.

“You appeared, all fury as you saw Jackie. You saw that I was losing, and you charged at him.” Marvin pauses, taking a deep breath as the memories of that fatal moment replay themselves. His voice is softer when he continues. “You fought. You fought, and I watched, and I did nothing as he stabbed you in your back.” His fingers tap three different spots on Chase’s back, “three times. I- I thought you were a goner, Chase. I was so scared. I thought I had lost you. I- the sight of you, on the floor, with a knife in your back…” 

Chase says nothing as he reaches for Marvin’s face, wiping away his tears while he patiently waits for Marvin to recollect himself. 

“What happened to Jackie is all a blur. I was so angry, I couldn’t control my magic. He got away… I would’ve gone after him if it weren’t for you.” His hand falls still on Chases back, and his lip trembles with his next words. “You died in my arms, Chase. I held you in my arms as your pulse slowed and your lungs filled with blood and I was too late- too late to save you, and I didn’t even realise what was happened until it was already too late.”

 _You died in my arms, Chase._ That sentence, although softly spoken, rings through Chase’s head like a gunshot, reverberating inside his skull. He died. Marvin’s lips are still moving, but the words are drowned out by the echo of that one phrase. He died. He died? That doesn’t- “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m so sorry, Chase. I had to- I couldn’t let you go! I couldn’t lose you! I-” he studies Chase’s face with desperate tear-filled eyes as if he’s watching his love die all over again. The silence as he waits for Chase’s response is deafening. 

He died.

And Marvin… 

Chase blinks once, twice. His mouth opens slightly as the realisation dawns on him. “... you brought me back.”

“I- yes. I did. Are you- are you mad?” The question is soft with fear and worry.

The look on Marvin’s face, it’s like a puppy expecting to be kicked, and it breaks Chase’s heart to see his love like that. “Of course not, dove. How could I- how could I be mad?”

Third perk of having a magical boyfriend: death will never make them part. 

Marvin laughs as relief washes over him, and it’s the most beautiful sound Chase has ever heard. His boyfriend, his beautiful boyfriend, the love of his life. He never wants to lose him.

Marvin moves in, as to wraps his arms around Chase in a hug, but he reels himself back at the last minute. “Hey, you should rest. You need it. You’re gonna need a few days to get used to being brought back, it’s a strange feeling. Dying tends to… mess with your short term memory. But it’s okay, I’m here. Whatever you want, I’m here for you, Chaser. I’m not leaving.”

“...Marv?”

“Yeah?”

“Could-, could you put me to sleep?”

“Of course.” 

He moves his hand over Chase’s eyes, that familiar silver glow dancing over his face, piercing through Chase’s closed eyelids once more. It lures him down into the dark, to the bottom of the ocean, where’s it’s peaceful and safe. The waves gently sway him to and fro, on the rhythm of his breathing. Before he lets go, one last thought bubbles up. An apology. He’s not sure what for, but he feels like it needs to be said. “... ‘m sorry, Marv.” It’s mumbled, slurred, drowsiness weighing his tongue down.

“It’s okay, Chaser. I forgive you. It was stupid, what you did. Heroic and stupid. But you saved my life.”

Of course he did. Of course. He glances at him through his eyelashes, as if to take it all in, the way he’s sitting there in the morning sun, he wants to burn the image into his mind’s eye so he’ll never forget him. How his brown curls escape whatever ponytail or bun Marvin tucks them in, those short strands perfectly framing his face. His eyes, beautiful blue and silver, and full of love and tenderness. His lips, the way they part into a smirk, those teeth that sink into Chase’s soft skin, leaving trails of bitemarks and hickeys. The way he curls up inside his arms, or on his lap, or against his side, burying his face into the curve of his neck. His soft snoring as he sleeps, so reminiscent of the purring of a content cat. Marvin is his anchor, the star at the centre of his galaxy. He can’t- he can’t let that go. He’d never let that go. He can’t lose him, no matter what. He never wants to feel so lost again, so out in the open without Marvin to ground him, to guide him, the brightest star in the night’s sky, always there to bring him home. He needs him, and Marvin needs Chase just as much. They’re made for each other. The moon, the planets, and all the stars, none of it means anything if Marvin isn’t there to experience it with him.

“And you saved mine.”


	3. Tell me about your dead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump through time with me. Marvin asked Chase to jump off cliff's edge once more, but Chase said no, and before Marvin could push him under, Chase shot him. One single bullet in his chest, just barely missing his heart. Chase, however, is a dumbass, and just left without checking the body, didn't even raise any questions when the body seems to have vanished mere hours later.

_ "Was it really so bad, being in the palm of my hands?" _

There’s something unsettling about looking down at your own grave. Yet he cannot stop visiting it. 

It’s a small perk, nothing grande, nothing bedazzling, nothing… special. Just a simple rectangular spot of disturbed ground, a plain wooden empty casket buried underneath. His name, his birthday, and his presumed deathday are carved in neat letters on an ordinary stone slab that’s supposed to be his headstone.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming back here. But once every week, he finds himself standing in front of his grave, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, face hidden away behind a hood, a scarf, or a curtain of his own hair. Sometimes he goes as someone else, to avoid being recognised as a “regular”, but today, he’s here as himself. 

And, as always, the nuisance with the German accent is right there with him.

“They did not want to waste another cent on your vile ass.”

His head snaps to the side to shoot a deadly glare at the translucent image of Henrik. He’s looking bright, as he always does when they visit the graveyard, a side effect from being near your dead body, he supposes. He doesn’t care enough to ask. Henrik’s grave is a few rows away, and it is, of course, is a lot more… everything. A bigger stone, a fancier script (“ _beloved friend, brother, and saviour of many-_ ”), pictures of him surrounded by fresh flowers are never missing from the scene. Even the very location is better: a nice plot in the sun, a little pond with some koi carps nearby. The nearby benches are almost always occupied: friends, colleagues, and patients visit, refreshing flowers and memories as they each tell their tales of the amazing man Henrik was... 

Even in death, the doctor feels the irresistible need to outshine everyone and rub it in their faces as he does it. One day, he muses, one day Marvin will bring a sledgehammer and vandalize it all, leaving the doctor’s grave to match his soul: torn to pieces by Marvin’s hand.

He chooses to turn his attention back to his grave, refusing to give Henrik the satisfaction of a reply. There is one bouquet of wilted flowers by his headstone. Black roses, columbines, mauve carnations and asphodel, tied together by a silver band, slowly rotting away on the ground.

_Who left those there?_

… 

_Chase?_

He knows he’s lying to himself. He knows exactly why he keeps coming back here. It’s Chase, it’s always Chase. He’s hoping- he doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. That Chase regrets shooting him? That he wishes he’d never said “no”? That the remorse, guilt, and shame of what he’s done is eating away at him, consuming him from the inside out? That the very memory of that moment, that one fatal moment is forever etched into his brain, festering, not letting him sleep, not letting him rest in peace? That Chase is every bit as miserable as he is? That he’s unable to move on, that the grief and pain from being apart has torn Chase in two, just as it did to him?

That he cares. He wants Chase to care about him, even in death, even after everything he’s done. He wants to know that Chase still cares about him, that Chase is incomplete without him, that he misses him with all his heart. He wants to know whether, if given the chance… whether Chase would ask for forgiveness. No, _beg_. Whether he would apologize for what he did. Whether he would crawl back into Marvins arms as soon as the opportunity arises, and ask to start over.

If he’d let Marvin take him to cliff’s edge again. If he’d say yes, yes I do love you, yes I am sorry, yes yes yes I’m yours, Marvin, I’m yours. Jump with me.

“ _Why can’t you just let Chase be happy?_ ” The words ring through his head, although unspoken. Henrik has vanished, and in his place stands the mute. Jameson. Out of all the ghosts that plague him, Jameson probably hates him the least. 

“I do want Chase to be happy, James. I want to be the one to make him happy. I’m the only one who _can_ make him happy.” He speaks softly, still facing his own grave to fool bystanders into thinking he’s talking to his dearly departed. “He’s broken, James. You know this. He’s broken, and I’m the only one remotely capable of fixing him.”

A scoff. “ _You’re the one who broke him in the first place. Sure, he cracked a bit while he was with Stacy, but that wasn’t Stacy’s fault! He didn’t break until you found those cracks and dug your fingernails into them, meticulously chipping away. You forced him to fall apart, and you blamed it all on Stacy-_ ” The voice is getting louder as it speaks, reverberating against Marvin’s skull, giving him a headache. He looks over to Jameson and is surprised to see his expression. Maybe Jameson hates him more than he thought. “ _-and then you offered to take her place, your caring healing touches perfectly mending the gaps you-_ ”

“That’s quite enough from you for today, James. You spend too much time with Henrik for my taste” He waves his hand, and the pathetic excuse of a ghost vanished. That trick rarely ever works, only the weakest spirits can be silenced with it. Fortunately, Jameson had never been strong, and Henrik seems to be off relishing in the praise that’s being spoken over his dead body.

Finally alone.

 

He’s pulled out of thought at the scrunching sound of footsteps on the pebble-stone path. He looks up, and his heart jumps in his chest. Chase is slowly approaching, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie as he saunters between the rows of graves. He’s headed straight for him. His head hangs low, like a wilted flower, giving Marvin the time he needs to shapeshift into someone new: the young lady he bumped into when he entered the graveyard, she was just leaving. His brown locks turn blonde; his face smoothens out, a perky nose, well-shapen eyebrows over hazel eyes, his facial hair making way for red-painted lips. He shrinks a few centimetres, and his clothes tailor themselves to his new feminine body. He didn’t catch enough of her voice, but that’s okay, he can take another one, it’s not like Chase knows this random woman.

“Did you know him?” 

His head perks up at hearing Chase’s voice. It’s soft, raspy, lacking the usual energy, alcohol and tobacco taint his breath. His eyes are turned down to the ground in front of them.

“This one?” He holds a pause and studies the headstone as if reading the inscription for the first time.

_Marvin_

_11th of August, 1990_

_† 14th of April, 2019_

_The extreme always seems to make an impression._

“Hm… no. Do you?” He tilts his head, studying Chase with the kindest eyes he can muster while simultaneously trying to shut Henrik’s furious ranting out. Of course he picks the absolute worst time to reappear.

Chase slowly nods, “I brought him those,” he says, his chin gesturing to the wilted bouquet of flowers. 

“A lover?” He can only hope he’s coming across as a compassionate stranger, rather than a creep.

“... yeah, something like that.”

“Didn’t get to say goodbye the way you wanted to, huh?”

That’s finally enough to get Chase to look at him. His face is plastered with guilt, regret, grief, ~~he looks exactly like he’d hoped he would~~. His beard is unkempt, as is his hair, and not even the cold can colour his cheeks pink. He looks weaker and skinnier than he did before, collar bones poking out from under the collar of his hoodie. 

But worst of all are his eyes, those big blue puppy eyes now have a haze of grey over them, like an overcast sky right before rainfall. They’ve shrunken into their sockets, big dark bags drooping down underneath them. 

Taken aback by the estranged look in Chase’s eyes, he hastily corrects himself. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stick my nose in your business. It’s just that-” he takes one of his hands out of his pockets to gesture to the wilted bouquet on the ground, and realises too late that he didn’t take off his rings when he shapeshifted into the stranger. “-flowers have meanings, you know?” He can’t get his hand back into his pocket fast enough. His heart beats in his throat as he observes Chase’s reaction, whose eyes rest on Marvin’s concealed hand, a glint of recognition in them. A glint of anger, fury, and- no, it’s too early. It’s too early to win him back.

“I’ll leave you be,” he mutters with a slight smile, before hurrying down the path towards the exit, his two ghosts following suit. 


	4. "Look me in the eye when I'm speaking to you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jack takes his magic, Marvin digs deep into any and all books about magic he can find, and discovers runic magic. Now he just needs someone to test and practise said runes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stacy's not doing too well in this one... CW's for possessive behaviour

The ex-wife has seen better days.

She’s sitting still on the mattress in her room, seemingly relaxed. Perhaps she doesn’t know she’s being watched. Perhaps she doesn’t care.

The room is… in quite the state. The carpet on the floor is grimy and gross, its original colour indistinguishable. There’s a window, that he  _could_  open to let some fresh air and sunlight in, but he prefers to keep the musty curtains closed, it’s safer that way. The tasteless wallpaper that the previous tenant left has been bleached by the sun and stained by moulds, the corners curling over to reveal bare brick, old and fresh blood splatters adding a splash of colour.

A single old mattress lies in a corner, it’s not a whole lot more sanitary than the floor, but perhaps slightly more comfortable. 

He closes the door behind him, resealing the barrier that keeps her hidden from the world. Slowly stalking forward, like a hunter approaching a prey, using a decorated knife to pick under his nails. He looks casual, relaxed, while his mind starts poking at her’s, feeling around that poor excuse of a mental wall of hers, looking for weak spots to chip away at, gaps to grasp and claw at. No response. Perhaps she hasn’t noticed his presence. Perhaps she doesn’t care.

Marvin kneels down in front of her, and waves his gloved hand in front of her eyes. “Hello? Earth to Stacy, do you copy?” He uses the tip of his knife to tap at her nose. No response.

Hm, no, we can’t have that. That just won’t do. He traces his fingers over the rough lines on her collarbone, activating the most recent rune. “Look me in the eye when I’m speaking to you.” 

And she finally looks up, tired eyes as blue as his boyfriend’s, strands of brown hair stuck to her forehead, salt from sweat and tears stain her face. She never was the prettiest, but she’s certainly looking worse for wear. Her voice croaks as she whispers her answer. “Okay.”

He smiles, happy to see the rune is working, and she smiles back, albeit more faint. “Good. Now give me your left arm.”

Without hesitation, she obliges, lifting her left arm in Marvin’s direction. He doesn’t waste any time, and sets the tip of the knife to her skin, carving a new rune into it.

He’s almost done, when Stacy interrupts him. “Marvin?”

“What.” He stops carving to look up at her, shooting her an annoyed glare in the hope that she’ll get the hint and forget about whatever she wanted from him.

“It hurts.”

He sighs, and returns to work on her arm, carving a little deeper than necessary. “Shut up.”

“Okay.” Her arm trembles slightly as she holds back a whimper, almost causing Marvin to mess up his mark. 

Blood is dripping down her arm by the time he finishes, and Marvin shifts to make sure it doesn’t stain his clothes, giving his work one last check before dropping her arm. He deactivates the rune on her collarbone, and she slumps, turning her face away from him, holding her damaged arm close to her chest.

He wipes the knife off the edge of the mattress, and he rises, tucking the knife back in the waistband of his pants as he heads for the door.

He is nearly out the room before her voice stops him. 

“Can you at least give me a clean bandage to dress this wound with?”

He turns on his heel, tilting his head and tapping his chin in a mocking gesture. “Hm, let me think about that. No.”

“It is going to get infected.”

“It won’t kill you, so I don’t care. Good night, Stacy, get some rest.”


End file.
